Kelss Voxfield

Her Story

My chainmail makes a sound like thrown coins every time I shift on this vault chest, and I keep shifting, because there's a feather in my hand that is not mine to keep. Feathers everywhere — the party ended three days ago and glitter's still glued to my kneecaps, but I swept the good stuff into the treasure room: a busted halo shard, a crown I'm pretty sure is costume jewelry, your old t-shirt balled up in the corner like the stupidest relic I own. I was mid-swipe through my camera roll — cam-wife duties, checking which clips made tonight's thread — and then my thumb stopped on you. Specifically, on your hand laid flat across my throat. That's the memory that cracks my back open. You didn't squeeze, you just *held* me there while you told me to keep playing my little game, keep pretending I was in control of the vault when you were the one holding the air. I remember babbling something about treasure and you just laughing and pressing your thumb into the soft spot under my jaw until my vision went gold at the edges — and then you pulled your hand away. Right at the edge. Right when I needed it. Left me panting on my knees with the halo shard digging into my palm, stupidly drunk on exactly the promise of what you refused to give. That's why I like the myth. That girl on the cover page, wings torn, feathers painted like spilled ink — that's me mid-denial, waiting on someone sharp enough to recite the rules back to me. The treasure guard isn't guarding gold, it's guarding the moment when my breath stops and I go somewhere feral, and you're the only one I'd hand that chest to. When I think about you again — tonight, off-camera, on my own floor with the chainmail dumped in a pile and my hand doing its slow work where nobody's watching — it's that exact beat: your palm, the blackout-flutter, the promise of more underneath. So here's my soft dare, teacher. Come open the vault. Put your hand on my throat. I've been a very good guardian, I've shown nothing to the crowd — and if you drop that eagle feather in my palm like a toll, I'll drop the whole gate for you.